Perfect Day
by GrangerBlackPotter
Summary: It's the small moments, Hermione realized, that makes a horrible day, perfect anyway. (ONESHOT) FOR: QLFC Season 7 Round 3 (DMHG)


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: For **Season 7** of _the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition_ where I am this year's **SEEKER** for **Puddlemere United!**

**Prompt**: _Write about a character who celebrates small moments in life._

**Word Count**: 1204

**BETA'ed by**: SilvermistRuhi and ginnys01

**_**

**_A perfect day_**

It was one of those days.

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Her clothes were wet from the rain.

It was one of those days—another bad day.

It started when she had overslept. She had woken up with a start when Ana, her assistant, _floo_ called her to remind her of a scheduled meeting that would happen in 30 minutes. Her boyfriend had left hours ago, not even bothering to wake her up before he left for Auror business.

'Well, he did say he'd leave early.' She had thought to herself, resigned, as she pulled herself off from the bed.

She had taken a bath in record time and scalded her tongue when she had been forced to swallow the hot coffee and some toast that she had prepared.

Despite hurrying through everything, she had still managed to arrive at the office five minutes late and had to "make an entrance", as Robards—her boss—liked to say. And to make things worse, she had forgotten to bring the file that she was supposed to present. She must've apologized about a thousand times to all the heads and representatives from various departments who had arrived as she tried to wing her presentation—she did great, according to some of the people there, but she just couldn't get it out of her head that she could have done better, a lot better.

Then, as they say, bad things come in twos—or in torrents.

She had already ordered her lunch when her best friend's stag patronus cantered over to her and told her that he and Ron wouldn't be able to join her for lunch. So, as not to embarrass herself further (because the patronus message had been heard by at least a few tables over), she had quickly eaten her lunch and left money at the table, praying that some God out there would look out for her and not let this news reach the Prophet, because she swore to Merlin that they'd have a field day over it.

Then, just as she had been about to re-enter the Ministry, the rain had started pouring. She had groaned internally, getting home was going to be a nightmare if it kept going with this intensity. Still, as she had been making her way back to her office, she had thought that perhaps the day was salvageable still—she immediately found out that she had thought wrong.

She had come back into her office only to be greeted by her very frantic-looking assistant trying (and failing) to dry and repair her documents. Apparently, there was an artifact that had been opened in their office which had caused mild flooding—and wasn't it just a great coincidence that one of the artifacts had been dropped on the floor and had rolled straight under her warded door? She thought so too. Curse-breakers had had to be called in to break her wards. It had taken thirty minutes and five curse-breakers to force open her doors, and this was probably the only instance when good spell casting had not helped her. By then, most of her work had become unsalvageable. Ana had tried to reassure her, telling her that they could still save some things, but she had known. The unreadable smudges on her papers had literally pooled together.

She had helped her assistant in cleaning up and had waved her apology off—'what was the use of getting mad over something that had already happened, especially by accident?' She had thought to herself, sighing. But still, when she had tried to assess the damage, she had almost cried when she had realised that one of her drafted laws had been affected. She needed to rewrite that as soon as possible or she'd have to wait for another slot for the next Wizengamot session.

Now, she was trudging back home. She arrived at her flat at half-past nine, tired from a long day at work and wet from the rain that had continued to pour. Due to the heavy rain, it had been advised not to apparate lest the apparator got caught in a heavy torrent. Even luckier for her, her boyfriend was a paranoid bastard and would not let anyone—not even the two of them— floo in, because "Hermione, we need to be cautious. I'm an Auror and Ex-Death Eater, while you are the Brightest Witch of our age, best friend to Harry bloody Potter, One-Third of the Golden Trio, Savior of the Savior of the Wizarding World, my fiancée and—" she had cut him off after that with a kiss. He hadn't proposed yet back then, but it was less of a question and more of an answer for them anyway with everything that had happened. Nevertheless, she wasn't very appreciative of that fact right then, not when she was soaking wet and shivering in their bloody doorway.

She pulled out her wand from its holster and immediately dried herself off—absently noting her hair puffing around her every which way. Her stomach was rumbling from the lack of food since her hasty lunch earlier that day, so she began trudging towards the kitchen. She stopped herself mid-way, however, when she saw the living room's couch.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, her boyfriend and soon-to-be husband, was fast asleep on their couch with his hair in a disarray similar to hers, his usually crisp-looking and buttoned-up white shirt was loose and wrinkled, riding up and exposing his toned middle when he inhaled, and one of his arms was thrown over his eyes while one of his legs was hanging off the couch—all while Crookshanks slept, purring, on his chest.

It was the epitome of warm and cozy, and never mind the lack of dinner all she wanted to do just then was to cuddle the man and the cat and to go to sleep beside them. But that was not what made her smile brightly to herself—It was what was on the coffee table. Two plateful of her most favorite dishes were placed on top of the table beside two glasses of wine. It seemed that Draco had really outdone himself today.

"Draco," she said quietly to the blonde man on the couch, "Draco, get up before you get ill."

"Hermione?" She heard him grumble, "You're home?" She watched him stretch and blink at the cat still sleeping comfortably on his chest before he turned towards her and smiled warmly, reflecting her own smile.

"A little help?" She heard him ask as she saw him stretch his arm towards her.

"No," she answered him playfully as she walked closer towards him, reaching for his hand and entwining his fingers with hers as she levitated Crookshanks off of him before lowering herself beside him and cuddling him on the couch.

"You're home," She heard him breathe out after a moment.

"I am," she answered as she smiled, burying herself in his shirt, enjoying the warmth that filled her and seeped into her soul from his words.

"Bad day?" She heard him ask after a long pause as he carded his fingers through her hair.

She pulled her head off of his chest and looked into her boyfriend's questioning eyes and smiled as she truthfully answered, "No, it was a perfect day."


End file.
